


Call Me

by Moransroar



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Peter Parker, Camboy Peter Parker, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Identity Reveal, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Phone Sex, Phone sex operator AU, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, Sex Worker Peter Parker, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, as slow as I can make it anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:20:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moransroar/pseuds/Moransroar
Summary: Peter's bike needs a new tire, but with what's left of his savings he's never going to be able to afford it. He decides he needs a new job, and luckily for him the job comes with a few perks, especially that one Friday night caller with his low voice and those sweet words...
Relationships: Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 70
Kudos: 651





	1. Chapter 1

Peter always knew that the option was there, he just figured it would be a last resort type of thing. Something for when his savings ran completely dry and he’d start to feel guilty for showing up at his aunt’s so often just so he wouldn’t have to worry about what he’d have for dinner.

He always got a lot of spam in the mail, flyers for new restaurants or other businesses and pamphlets from the closest church. He never really looked through the piles that were shoved in his mailbox but the one time he actually did and came across a very specific flyer, he felt persuaded just to give it a shot, for the sheer coincidence of it all.

It just happened that he’d been driving around on a bike with a wheel that kept going flat no matter how many times Peter looked for the leak and patched up the tire, and he was starting to grow frustrated with it – but he knew that a new tire would set him back about thirty bucks. In his situation, that wasn’t something he could really afford if the bike still technically worked.

But maybe with a new job…

Peter had no idea if he’d be good at it, or if he’d get hired at all, but he gave it a shot. The interview went much more smoothly than he had expected. The lady on the phone didn’t ask for any kind of demo or previous experiences, but just went through the contract with him and how their company operated. Peter had expected it to be much…shadier. And Peter didn’t lose his cool once. Well, except for when the lady asked if he could do any accents, but luckily she couldn’t see his face as he tried to answer as truthfully as he could.

In the week after, once the contract was agreed upon and signed, Peter got a setup sent to his home.

He was nervous to try it out the first few times. His very first conversation only lasted ten minutes, and Peter saw bright red by the end of it, sitting on the edge of his bed with his heart in his throat – but the thought that he’d just made 30 bucks just from one conversation alone kept him going. That was his tire, sorted.

After a while, he got used to things more and more. He did his reading, practiced new accents while working one of his other jobs, studied kinks he never even knew existed during his time off. As a matter of fact, he was having more fun with his new job than he thought he ever had delivering pizzas. Even if he sometimes had to pretend he was into things that he definitely wasn’t into at all.

One customer had asked him if he was new to the job. He didn’t know how to respond at first, fudging for a moment, but then coming clean because what else was he supposed to say? It was a nice man, very polite in their conversation, with a lovely, low voice, and he’d been very courteous about the fact that Peter hadn’t done this very often. Peter kind of expected to be given pointers or something, like he’d been doing it all wrong, but their conversation ended with the man bidding him a very good night, and saying he’d be back for more some time.

And he was.

The next week on the same night and around the same time, the man called again. Peter recognized his voice immediately.

“It’s nice to hear you again, sir,” he said, finding himself smiling, for whatever reason.

“It’s nice to hear you too, sweetheart. I have to admit I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

Peter was used to some clients flirting with him by now, but this one made him smile.

Usually, clients either wanted to explore kinks they couldn’t explore in real life for ethical reasons, or they wanted to just have someone to talk to, to connect with, and it didn’t always end in sex.

This man seemed like he wanted that connection rather than the sex, although Peter wasn’t about to rule anything out just yet.

They talked about the man’s day for a little while, and although Peter often wondered if the people he was talking to actually enjoyed this, the stranger didn’t seem like he was ready to wrap up at any point. He mentioned a project he was working on and Peter got a little curious, asking about it with the other revealing more and more information which Peter eagerly absorbed and reciprocated with interests of his own, until the client fell quiet for a moment.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” he said after a few moments of silence, and Peter made an encouraging little sound, “I’ve never had someone like you keep up with me like that.”

Peter chuckled and teased his client about it. They talked for a little while more until the man once again bid him a good night, and left Peter to get through the rest of his calls. The next week was the same

Peter was… a little disappointed when the next Friday night after that rolled around and no call came. But hey, maybe his client had been impacted by the latest alien attack in New York one way or another. He hoped he was alright, at least.

Instead, Peter received a call on Saturday afternoon, the second he started his shift. He was tired from an afternoon of work, but he was committed to this job and to the hours he made, and the pay was proving to help out a great deal. He wasn’t about to drop it.

“My name is Tony,” he said before Peter could even greet him. He immediately recognized the voice.

“Hi Tony. I missed you yesterday. How are you?” Peter asked politely. Something about the way Tony sighed in response didn’t sit right with him. He sounded tired. Like he hadn’t slept. Like he was hurt, maybe, too, one way or another. Peter hoped he hadn’t gotten hurt during the attack. He knew from their previous conversations that Tony lived somewhere in New York City, just like he did.

“I want you to pretend like you’re sitting in my lap,” Tony replied, and it was a change of pace, but not something that Peter couldn’t work with. He hummed his affirmative, and sat up a little straighter where he’d draped himself across his bed, suddenly feeling a little more awake than before. “With my hands on your hips.”

“I love it when you put your hands on my hips,” Peter said almost a little cautiously. He wasn’t sure what to expect from Tony yet. Or from this. “Like the way they’re warm. Will you put them up my shirt?”

Tony gave a quiet grunt of approval, to which Peter sighed, eyes closing and pretending like he was sitting in someone’s lap and their hands pushed his shirt up to skim softly up over his ribs. He didn’t have much experience to draw from, but he had a vivid imagination, and imagining this for Tony came almost entirely naturally.

“Here, I’ll sit a little closer ‘til our chests touch. You like that, Tony? Like to be close to me?”

Peter was testing the waters to try and see what it was that Tony needed right now, but it was hard to tell if he didn’t outright say it. Usually when clients wanted something specific they went ahead and started their conversation with that, and they were usually pretty detailed too, so that Peter could act out their fantasy just the way they liked it. But all Tony had wanted was for him to sit in his lap.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Tony breathed into the phone. Peter wondered if he had his eyes closed and tried to imagine it like he was, or if he sounded so quiet because he was touching himself. Maybe both.

Peter continued to describe how he felt his hands up Tony’s chest, put his fingers through his hair, kissed down his jaw and toward his shoulder until he could bury his face into the crook of his neck as he slowly ground his hips down into Tony’s lap. 

He could hear Tony take in a quiet, shuddery breath.

Now that was something he could work with.

As Peter continued to describe what he was ‘doing’, he took careful note of the things Tony seemed to enjoy, jotting them down on a pad on his bedside table. It was valuable information for a potential next time, which Peter had the feeling would likely happen. Tony sounded like he was enjoying himself as Peter described how he slid down to the floor and opened Tony’s jeans.

If he just wanted a blowjob then that’s exactly what he’d get.

But when Peter thought that Tony must have been getting close about ten minutes into their conversation, the man suddenly took the reins.

“Stop,” he said firmly, and Peter went quiet in an instant, eyes a little wide. He’d been so quiet that Peter had had to pry some kind of response out of him sometimes. But Tony was definitely still there.

He told Peter how he grabbed him and pulled him back up into his lap, how Peter was naked and had to be hard by now, and how lovely he looked with his cock standing at attention like that, chest flushed and face hot. Peter swallowed, and dutifully made the appropriate noise, although he found that it came a little…too naturally.

“I’ve got some lube right here,” Tony purred into the phone, “I want you to spread yourself open for me. Right here in my lap. Show me.”

While Peter described how he took the lube and coated his fingers, Tony only interrupted to turn him around so he was facing away from him. “So I can see exactly how well you’re doing.” Peter didn’t protest. In fact, the more he pictured himself in an older man’s lap with two fingers twisting inside of himself he couldn’t deny that his sweats were starting to feel a little too tight for comfort. He trapped the phone between his shoulder and cheek so that he could shimmy out of them, and after a moment’s hesitation, out of his underwear too.

It was probably fine, right? Not like Tony would know. And he only needed one hand to keep the phone to his ear. Or none, if he kept it like it was now, so who cared?

Peter reddened as he wrapped a tentative hand around himself at the same time as he told Tony how he took his cock and lined him up, and as he sank down slowly to swallow him down, the sound that Peter made was genuine. He could only hope that Tony wouldn’t notice.

“God, you feel so good, Tony…” He let out softly, and Tony made a sound that told Peter he was touching himself, too. He had to be.

Peter sat up on his knees on the bed so he could pretend to be rocking back on Tony’s cock, making breathy little noises into the receiver and moaning Tony’s name with every other stroke of his hand. Shamelessly, he thought next time he should have a toy ready so he had something real to sit on. But what if there wouldn’t be a next time?

“Fuck, baby,” Tony keened, “You look so fucking good on my cock like that. You’re beautiful. Stunning, sweetheart. C’mon, go a little faster.”

Peter’s hand on himself sped up. He almost forgot he was supposed to pretend.

“Are you touching yourself?” Tony asked. Peter bit his lip before another moan betrayed him.

“Y-Yes. Yeah. I am.” 

Tony was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was lower, darker, all in a way that sent every word he said right to Peter’s cock.

“Good,” was all Tony said at first, and then, “I want to hear you come. Think you can do that for me, baby boy?”

Peter shivered and nearly doubled over where he sat on his knees, his thighs going tight in his attempt at staving off the orgasm that was now approaching rapidly.

“I said do you think you can do that for me?” Tony repeated.

Peter whimpered, and nodded, before scrambling to say yes.

“That’s a good boy. I knew you could do it for me. Go on then. I’m waiting. I want to hear you, loud and clear. Show me what you sound like when you fall apart.”

And Peter did. He didn’t spare a single thought to what he was doing when he squeezed his cock and spilled across his bedsheets with an unfiltered moan, thighs quivering as he stroked himself through his orgasm, panting into the phone. He distantly registered that Tony sounded equally breathless when he praised him so softly, voice almost reverting back to a sweeter version of the polite way in which they’d talked before.

Peter felt boneless, knelt on the bed with his hand still around his softening cock, catching his breath.

“Wonderful,” Tony sighed into his ear, “That was wonderful. I knew you’d be good at this.”

He was at a loss for words. Tony chuckled.

“Speechless, sweetheart? That’s fine by me. I had a lovely time. Talk to you next week?”

And with that, Tony ended their call.

Peter slowly took the phone away from his ear before he allowed himself to drop back against the pillows on his bed. His heart was still beating quickly in the aftermath of what had just happened, and he dropped a hand to his chest, feeling his heart thud against his fingertips. He couldn’t believe he just did that. And he couldn’t believe that Tony, who was definitely his absolutely favorite client now if he hadn’t already been, had reacted so positively. He wasn’t sure when he’d last gotten off so damn well.

_Holy shit._

He loved his job.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter opens a PO box. He receives a package from his favorite client Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, I can't believe it's been like a month already, but here is chapter two! I have an outline now, and I'm excited to write more, so I hope you'll stick around and enjoy the ride :)

The next time Tony called, he was as polite as ever once again. Peter didn’t mind, because it gave him some sense of normalcy when his calls were getting crazier with every week he worked.

He’d now worked up quite the clientele, or at least he liked to think so. He didn’t think he’d be popular at all, but it turned out that his voice was sweet enough to satisfy the men who wanted a little twink at their disposal, and mature enough to chat with the few lady callers who felt they were being neglected by their significant other and were just looking for some encouragement or a way to finally feel good again.

And then there were people like Tony, although Peter was biased enough to say that he still stood out from that crowd. The people like Tony called for company. They called to have Peter listen about their day or talk them through issues they might have been facing. Sometimes they just wanted Peter to talk about his day.

For every one of his regular clients he kept up a diary. He wrote down what they liked and didn’t like, what they seemed to enjoy talking about and what he should steer clear of. That worked for both the sexual clients and the non-sexual ones. He’d also write down what kind of a persona he’d created specifically for some clients so that he could glance over his notes and easily slip back into that character whenever they called.

Interestingly enough he hadn’t quite figured out Tony just yet. That man was a mystery. He called Peter every Friday night and they talked about whatever struck their fancy, really.

The first time he called after their…incident, neither of them mentioned it.

Peter didn’t want to bring it up because he didn’t want to put Tony on the spot or confront him about something he didn’t want to or couldn’t talk about. What if he was somewhere with other people nearby? Sex wasn’t a safe subject to talk about in that case. Especially not if Tony had a husband or a wife. Peter wondered about it sometimes. He’d open his notebook and glance over what he’d written down and fantasize a little bit.

Because he wouldn’t always call just to chat.

Sometimes Tony called on a different day. On those days he sounded off, and wanted different things, and talked to Peter in a way that he hadn’t been used to previously, but was slowly starting to recognize.

One day, on a Friday night at around the same time Tony always called him, the phone rang and it was Tony again. Peter sat up where he’d been lounging on the bed, and answered the phone with a smile.

“I have a favor I want to ask you,” Tony said, cutting straight to it, and Peter felt his heart scurry to catch up with how he was suddenly holding his breath.

“Of course,” Peter answered, skeptical but nonetheless open to what it was that Tony might ask him.

“I want to send you something. And in order to do that, I need you to open a PO box. I’m afraid I don’t have much time tonight, though I wish I could be on the phone with you for hours right now. Would you consider setting up an address for me to send you something special?”

Okay… That wasn’t what Peter had been expecting. But that didn’t mean that it was a bad thing, necessarily. And if Tony wanted to send him a present or something…

None of his other clients had ever suggested anything like it before, though he’d read online that some people in this industry did it. Peter didn’t want to be suspicious and think it was a trap, a way for Tony to trace it all back to him, but he couldn’t stop it from crossing his mind as he sat there mulling it over for a moment.

“Okay,” he decided, “Sure, I suppose that’s something I can do. I don’t see why not.”

Tony sounded very pleased. “Perfect. I’ll call you same time next week to get the address from you. Sorry this was short, doll. You sound wonderful tonight.”

Peter felt pleasantly warm. “It was nice to hear from you either way.”

As promised, Peter worked on setting up a PO box in the week that followed, and by the time Tony called again, he had the address ready.

He’d set up an email, too, and got a message the second something was dropped off.

It was a brown parcel, not too big and rather light, with only the PO box’s address on it. Peter took it home and didn’t hesitate to open it. Inside, there were a few items. There was the gift, along with a pamphlet from the online store and a small note that said ‘Enjoy, x T.’, and two small bottles. 

Peter removed the smaller items before he lifted the translucent, hard-plastic packaging from the box and admired the toy that was held within.

He’d never bought a dildo before.

It felt rubbery to the touch, and almost felt kind of sticky to the touch – but the instructions said to always wash before using it for the first time. It was a little bit girthier than he was himself, probably a little bigger too, but it wasn’t anything outrageous, thank goodness. The silicone was smooth, bendy but firm, and the details were astounding. From the lifelike color to the thick veins running up the shaft, it could almost have been the real thing.

If it hadn’t had a suction cup at the bottom.

Peter washed the toy thoroughly, and inspected the bottle of lube and toy cleaner he’d gotten with it, and he even kept the note on his bedside table.

It was tempting to use the toy, so very tempting, but Peter told himself to wait. This was Tony’s gift, and so Peter wanted to keep it for when he called again. Although… it did occur to him that Tony had never said when exactly he’d call again.

It took another week. Tony called on a Wednesday night. Odd, but Peter tried not to think about it too much. The second he heard Tony’s voice, his heart beat faster.

“Did you get my package?” His voice was low in Peter’s ear.

Peter was quick to gather the toy and the lube, and spread a towel on his bed when he returned. Tony instructed him to take off his clothes and sit on his knees on the bed, and while it was a bit of maneuvering, Peter did as he’d been told.

It occurred to him that he could just as easily pretend. He did so with every one of his other clients, so he could do that with Tony just as easily. But there was just something about the man, about his voice and the way he spoke to Peter and the interest he showed in him, that made Peter want to actually give this man a good time. And if this was what helped achieve that while also getting Peter off in the process then why on earth would he deny the both of them that?

“I’ve never used a toy before,” Peter admitted, and the satisfied rumble he received from Tony told him that it had been the right thing to say, “Can you teach me?”

“I’ll teach you anything you want to know, baby,” the other man purred over the phone.

He walked Peter through working himself open on his fingers, then slicking up the toy and setting it upright on the bed just behind himself. With how it was curved toward the head it threatened to fall over when Peter let go of it, so he held it in place while he sat back against it as instructed.

“Can you feel it, sweetheart?” Tony cooed, “Bet it stretches you so good. Mhm, I wish I could see it. Just take a deep breath, relax.”

Peter took a deep breath, and noticed how on the exhale, his body swallowed up the flared head of the toy without any problems.

It was smooth sailing from there. He rocked back and gained an inch with every thrust of his hips, his cock already stirring to life between his legs, heavy and beading precome when he finally hilted the toy. It settled deeper inside of him than anything ever had before, and it wasn’t even particularly huge.

“It’s in,” he told Tony breathlessly, “Fuck, Tony, it’s so deep.”

Peter could hear Tony’s breath hitch on the exhale, and his cock twitched with it.

“Now move back up. Take it slow, baby. Go on, fuck yourself on my cock for me.” Tony’s voice sounded almost wrecked, and Peter wondered if he was able to hear the slick slide of him sinking back onto the toy again and again once he started up a slow pace.

Peter could feel everything. The flared head sat perfectly inside of him, tugging on his rim every time he lifted himself up almost entirely off the toy, and then on the downstroke it moved inside of him so beautifully. He could feel the veins, feel the balls press up against him when he settled down on it all the way.

And when he arched his back just so, angling the toy on the bed, it brushed across a part of him that had his thighs trembling and cock leaking excessively onto the towel below him. But until Tony told him he could touch himself, Peter wasn’t going to give it any attention.

Honestly, if Tony kept talking the way he did, praising him for taking him so well and moaning into his ear along with how he was undoubtedly stroking himself, Peter felt like he could come untouched. Just like that. Just dragging the head of Tony’s toy across his prostate every time he slammed his body down onto it.

With his pace quickened, the bed was creaking and his breath coming quickly.

“ _Tony,_ ” Peter moaned, edging on a whine. He was so close. If he could just…

“Fuck, I wish you could hear yourself right now. Touch yourself for me, baby boy. I want to hear you cum.” Tony sounded so breathy, so sultry, what could Peter do except obey?

His fingers on his own cock were a blessing, easing tension that had been building for the past couple of minutes. He stroked himself from root to tip, trying not to get distracted enough to slow down his thrusting. He still wanted Tony to get a good little show out of this.

It was getting harder and harder to keep pushing back, his body tensing up the closer he got to orgasm, constricting around the toy and almost making it impossible to force himself down on it.

“I’m so close, baby,” Tony grunted in his ear. Peter whined in response.

And for a moment, when Peter closed his eyes, he could imagine he was there. That it was Tony’s lap he was rolling his hips in, Tony’s hand that was fisted around his aching cock.

Tony’s lips on his neck, his fingers in his hair, skin warm and noises soft.

Peter came with a shudder and a sudden moan.

He spilled over his fingers, and was only vaguely aware of the fact that Tony, on the other end of the line, was grunting too. Later, Peter would think back on it, and blush at the realization that hearing him come had made Tony topple over the edge right after him.

They both respectively came down from their highs in a comfortable quiet. Tony’s soft breaths over the phone were a wonderful sound to relax to, eyes closed and lips parted as he sat there, still impaled on the toy and with his muscles twitching lightly in the aftermath. He thought he’d had a wonderful orgasm last time, but somehow this beat even that. It had to be the toy. It touched him in all the places he now knew he liked, and well…

Combined with Tony’s voice in his ear, Peter was sure he’d be able to like almost anything.

Tony was really sweet as they said their goodbyes, thanking him for the lovely evening. As if they’d been on a date together or something. Tony really didn’t have to be so courteous, he didn’t have to say those lovely things and make Peter’s face feel hot, but he did.

There was a reason Tony was definitely Peter’s favorite client, after all.

Peter slept like a baby that night. It came as no surprise when the very next day, there was a new parcel for him at the post office. It was another brown cardboard box, unmarked, only this one was slightly bigger, and slightly heavier.

Peter couldn’t stop grinning all the way home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is invited to an event with a special guest speaker. It feels strangely familiar.

Maintaining a healthy work-life balance remained difficult, even though Peter slowly got used to it a little more. Juggling three separate jobs certainly kept him busy. Between working long shifts at a café downtown, his inconsistent photography job, and his phone services, he spent most of his days running back and forth between everything he needed to get done.

The only time his life felt like it slowed down enough for him to take a breather, was on the phone with clients.

Peter liked to think about those moments when life was being particularly stressful. Like it was when one day he got an invitation in the mail to a post-grad engineering event. He was still signed up to his old college’s emailing list for some reason, and while he usually threw away everything they tossed in his direction, this one caught his eye.

Namely because the invitation promised a speech by renowned engineer and multi-billionaire Tony Stark. The one and only Iron Man.

Not only did Peter admire the man for everything he had done and everything he was doing, he also knew that if he brought his camera and managed to get a good seat and get in a good couple of shots, those would certainly sell.

Considering he had no idea how long his phone service would stay upright and how long people would remain interested in him, he’d take any kind of funds he could to put toward paying off his student debt. He still had a long way to go toward finalizing that enormous payment, anyway. Every penny counted.

He calculated how long the event would take, and how much money he thought he’d get out of it, and compared that to what he would normally make during a shift of a similar amount of time at the café. It seemed worth it, especially if he managed to sell his pictures to two separate newspapers or tabloids, or even someplace online. If he played it right, he could make around a hundred bucks in a day, and still have time left to do a night of calls and get some laundry done while he was at it. It sounded like an opportunity to be productive.

So he RSVP’d the invitation and claimed his spot in the audience, and checked over his camera equipment a few days before the event.

When the day arrived, Peter found his way to the old auditorium, a place he hadn’t visited since his last day at college when he wanted to pop by one of his professors to thank him for his help during the last semester. Aunt May had insisted that it would be a nice gesture if he brought some chocolates, for everything he’d done for him in the last few weeks. If it hadn’t been for him, Peter wasn’t sure he would have completed his thesis at all. And that would have set him back another year, and another couple thousand dollars.

It felt good to be back, and it was nice to reminisce. He did have nice memories here, even though they seemed bittersweet sometimes, like when he thought of just how hard he’d worked for a degree that had yet to get him a job anywhere.

He was pretty early, so he picked a good seat somewhere in the middle of the audience and a little bit toward the front, so that he’d be able to get a couple of good shots in. Photography was allowed, thankfully, and he was just attaching a better lens onto his camera when someone took a seat next to him, body visibly angled toward Peter in a way that caught his attention.

Peter looked up, and his face brightened when he realized who it was.

“No way!” He exclaimed, setting his camera down on the seat next to his own so that he could stand and throw his arms around his friend, “You came too?”

Ned squeezed Peter tightly, before pulling back to take a good look at him. “Duh. Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

They sat down together, and Peter couldn’t stop grinning.

“I thought you were still on your trip,” he said.

“Nope. Had to cut it short because my grandma got sick. I got back, like, yesterday, saw the event on Facebook, and knew you’d be here.”

It was so good to see an old friend. Peter had missed him terribly. They had tried to keep in contact as best as they could throughout college, even if they had to part ways after high school. They had texted each other every day, Skyped as often as they could, and whenever Ned was in town they got together for a meal or to watch movies or to play games. After finishing college, Ned had decided to go on this big world trip he’d been planning to go on for ages, and had left Peter in New York. The only reason Peter hadn’t gone with him was the money. He simply didn’t have the funds at the time. Back then, Ned had promised that he’d have the money some day, and that once he did they would go on the biggest road trip anyone had ever made. Peter hoped that Ned still remembered that, because he was going to take him up on that at some point.

But now Ned was back, and it seemed he was going to be back for a little while, and Peter was already excited with all the opportunity that brought along with it.

They chatted as more people filed into the auditorium, filling the large room with a cacophony of chatter until the lights went down and a spotlight turned on the stage.

Peter got his camera ready while one of his old professors did the introduction, telling the audience a little about the morning’s schedule, and explaining why they were all there. He reiterated that photography was allowed, albeit without flash, that phones had to be silenced, etcetera etcetera. 

And then Tony Stark was announced to come on stage, and it felt like the whole auditorium took a collective breath of excitement seconds before erupting into applause once the man appeared through the entrance off to the right of the stage. Peter lifted his camera as the man waved at the audience, dressed to the nines (but then what did he expect?) and with sunglasses to boot, looking like a million bucks as per usual, and Peter took the opportunity to get a couple of good pictures in before the man entered the bright glare of the spotlight and went up to the wooden lectern.

He leaned into the microphone, which Peter assumed he must have thought was pretty primitive, and said a simple hello that once again had the crowd clapping enthusiastically.

When the noise went down with one of Mr. Stark’s hand gestures, he could finally speak, which Peter quickly realized was both a blessing and a curse for him personally.

Because as soon as he opened his mouth, Peter knew that something was off.

Not necessarily with Mr. Stark or anything, or with the event, or with the stage, or with Ned beside him looking on excitedly as the man started to explain his presence there. Something just felt…strange. He couldn’t pinpoint it for the longest time. He felt like he knew the man from somewhere, which he disregarded pretty easily because come on, everyone knew Tony Stark to a certain extent. Only people who had well and truly lived under a rock didn’t know who he was.

Maybe it was disbelief that made it so that the truth hit Peter so belatedly, made it so hard for him to recognize why it all felt so familiar. He genuinely thought he was delusional when his brain first provided him with the only logical answer. It didn’t seem logical to him at all.

But the truth was undeniable as the event continued and Mr. Stark spoke to his audience. Peter could have recognized that voice anywhere. It came as a surprise that he hadn’t yet, considering how relevant Mr. Stark was, both to the general population of New York and to those who were fans of his work or engineers themselves.

He wasn’t sure he believed it, and he knew he needed proof, but the longer Mr. Stark spoke the more it dawned on Peter that this was the man he had the privilege to listen to on a weekly basis, every Friday night. This was a man he talked to about his own everyday life, from the upkeep of his tiny apartment to his day to day jobs and chores, all the way down to his financial worries when he was feeling particularly vulnerable and open, and a man who returned the favor, although Peter realized now that everything he’d ever been told had always been…selective.

Peter sat through the rest of the speech like he wasn’t really there.

He was listening, but not really. Not to the content of Mr. Stark’s words, but to the cadence of his voice, something that had, and continued to, bring him a kind of peace he had never felt in another human being before.

He was well aware that Mr. Stark had no idea he was in the audience, and yet Peter listened to him as if it were just the two of them, as if Mr. Stark was on the other end of the line and he had his phone cradled in between his cheek and his shoulder to listen to him talk about everything and nothing while he washed up that day’s dishes.

It was bizarre.

Peter could never have guessed that Mr. Stark would be the kind of person to spend his money on a phone sex service when he could just as easily pick someone up at a bar somewhere because come on. He had the kind of sex appeal that could make anyone swoon, men and women alike. No one stood a chance against his charm – at least that’s what Peter always thought, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one.

He couldn’t stop wondering why Mr. Stark would seek out a phone sex operator. And not just any phone sex operator, _him._

Still stunned, Peter absently agreed to meet up with Ned after Mr. Stark had left the stage under raucous applause and the auditorium emptied out slowly but surely. Ned had somewhere to be after this, but tomorrow he’d be free, so he’d come by the café at the end of Peter’s shift so they could walk back to his apartment together after and watch a movie or two and order some takeout.

Peter’s mind was just somewhere else.

Now that he knew, he couldn’t stop thinking about Friday.

He only had three more days to decide what to do with all of this new information.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Ned come up with an idea to figure out the truth. It doesn't go... _that_ well.

“I’m serious, Ned, I don’t know what to do.”

Peter had worked the morning shift, and as promised, around the time a colleague came to take over for the rest of the day, Ned came for a frappuccino and stuck around until Peter clocked out. Peter had considered and reconsidered telling Ned about his new job and about what had transpired over and over again throughout his shift, but when Ned was actually in front of him, the truth came spilling out easily.

He told Ned everything on the way home from work. He told him about how he’d come across the job, why he did it, what he did, and of course about his customers, until he eventually spilled the beans about his suspicions – or rather, his revelation.

Because there was no doubt in his mind anymore, if there ever had been in the first place. Tony Stark was the guy that called every Friday night for a chat, and every once in a while to get his rocks off.

Peter told Ned in as much detail as they could both handle how Mr. Stark would call, and what he’d ask for, and what kind of things they talked about. Ned was apprehensive at first, and told Peter that he was probably mistaken, but the more Peter showed that he genuinely believed that his favorite client was the one and only Tony Stark, the more Ned’s face went slack in stunned disbelief.

Peter ran a frustrated hand through his hair as they went up the steps toward his apartment, ascending slowly until they reached his front door and he jiggled the key into the lock.

“I mean, do I confront him, do I not confront him? Do I wait for him to come out with it?” Peter closed the door behind them, threw his keys on the coffee table, and sank down onto the couch. 

“He’s a famous dude, Peter. Really famous. He probably wants to stay anonymous,” Ned provided with a shrug, and sat down next to him, slurping the last mouthful of iced coffee out of the bottom of his cup. When he noticed Peter’s smirk, he added, “You could ask him for his Skype or something.”

Peter snorted. “Can you imagine? Skyping Tony Stark.”

“Sounds like a dream. And besides, you’d be able to really determine if it’s him or not. I know you’re sure of yourself, but if you never see his face then it’ll always be a hunch. Maybe their voices just sound familiar or something.”

Peter mulled it over in silence for a moment. He knew that Ned was right, maybe he was just seeing things, maybe he just wanted it to be Tony Stark so badly that he made an incorrect connection. If he could somehow convince Tony to turn on his webcam or even send him a specific picture of himself, he wouldn’t have to keep wondering. Everything just seemed like too big of a coincidence.

Peter sat up a little straighter as Ned went through his old DVD collection to pick which movie they were going to watch. Something that seemed very unlikely just a second ago now appeared less so when he realized that Tony had told him, a few times, that he wished he could see Peter. Granted, that was in a sexual context, but…would that be so hard?

“I have to start doing cam work,” Peter declared, sounding a bit surprised at his own words.

Ned stopped, and twisted around to look at his friend, frowning.

Peter grinned.

“I think it might be my only legitimate chance.”

When Ned went home later that night, Peter did some research. He found a good website he could stream from, tested his webcam to make sure the quality wasn’t too barbaric, and figured out how to get some money out of it all too.

He told himself it would just be for Tony, no one else, that he wouldn’t continue putting himself out there like that once he’d seen Tony’s face and finally knew his identity. He’d figured out a way to host private streams, so that only those personally invited or accepted into the viewing room could join, and was planning on inviting Tony the next time he called.

He’d do it once, maybe twice, depending on how his client reacted to it, and then that would be that.

When everything was pretty much all set up and ready for whenever Tony decided he wanted to actually see Peter, it was just a matter of waiting for Tony to call. He kept a note with the website and his username on it by the phone, so that he could pass it on come Friday.

And sure enough, that Friday Tony called, the same time as usual, and Peter realized then that he was nervous. It had been nothing more than a silly idea at first, even though he _had_ put in the effort to get it all set up and ready to go, 

“Are you okay?” Tony asked after a little while, because of _course_ he could hear that something was up, that Peter was nervous about something. After a few weeks of talking once or sometimes twice a week, he could hear it in Tony’s voice when something was the matter, so of course he could hear it in Peter’s voice, too.

Peter decided that his best bet was to just…put it out there. Before he could change his mind.

“I set up a cam account,” he blurted out. When Tony gave no response other than a politely inquiring “oh?”, Peter continued; “Yeah. My username is PeteyCake. I uh—it’s just that I remember you saying you wished you could see me. Well… this would be a way for you to see me. Right?”

It was quiet on the other end of the line for a few moments, and Peter was, at one point, fairly sure that Tony had hung up on him. He chewed at his lip, his breath held and chest tight with nerves. Maybe he’d done the wrong thing. Maybe he’d made the wrong choice. Maybe he should never have brought it up.

“It would be just the two of us. It has a payment system, so if you want to you could give me tips. You’d get to watch me try out all of those toys you sent me? Or at least a few. I don’t think I’ll use the account for anything else. I just wanted to show you. That’s all.”

Peter had to snap his mouth shut before he’d ramble. He knew himself – once he started in the nervous way that he was doing now, there was no stopping him once he’d gone past a certain point. But Tony was quiet for such a prolonged period of time (or perhaps it just felt like ages, with time moving slowly in reality, which was nothing short of agony) that Peter was about to dismiss the offer and shrug it off, brush it under the rug as if it was just a blip in the radar and nothing more. They could forget about it. Peter would make sure that he never brought it up again.

Except that was the moment Tony decided to finally say something, and it had Peter’s breath coming out in a relieved rush.

“And what website is that on?”

Peter breathed out slowly and reached forward to punch a key on his laptop, and start streaming.

Tony had yet to arrive, but that was good. It gave him a few moments to gather himself, to look at himself on the screen and make sure that he sat in a way that he liked, showed off his body in a way he thought Tony might appreciate.

They had discussed few details, but enough so that Peter wasn’t fully freaking out about it all. He still thought he was a little bit mad, going on a stream with a man he didn’t know beyond what they had talked about on the phone, had never met in person, and couldn’t _technically_ trust enough therefore. But at the same time, he _did_ trust Tony. If there was anyone he trusted out of all the people he regularly spoke to, it was Tony. There was just something about him, and Peter really hoped that his intuition served him right.

There was still the possibility that Tony wasn’t going to show up. Peter kept that in the back of his mind, hoping to avoid disappointment should that happen. He felt pretty confident that this was going to be it, he was finally going to really find out that it was actually Tony Stark on the other end of their phone calls, but it wasn’t realistic to completely rule out the possibility of Tony no-showing.

Peter rearranged the toys he had on a small table just out of frame, almost nervously. It didn’t matter what order he put them in, or how they lay there – Tony wasn’t going to see that anyway. But it gave Peter something to do while he waited for the other to show up.

A notification popped up on the screen in front of him, and Peter leaned forward toward his laptop that was sitting on a table next to his bed. The notification read that someone had requested access to his private chatroom, and Peter took a deep breath. This was it. He was about to see Mr. Stark and confirm what he already knew.

Peter clicked the ‘accept’ button, and the screen shifted, rearranging its layout to allow room for the new window – Tony’s window.

It seemed to be loading, but then Tony’s voice came through, loud and clear and so familiar.

“You are more beautiful than I could have ever imagined,” he said on an audible exhale, sounding wishful, almost. Peter felt his heart leap at the compliment, face warming.

“Hi Tony,” Peter said sweetly, glancing at his own window on the screen to make sure that he looked okay. Tony’s was still loading, remaining black. For now, at least, as Peter figured he might have just had a bad internet connection.

Not that that made sense. If this really was Tony Stark, then he shouldn’t have bad connection. Unless he was somewhere else. Maybe he’d gone to a hotel just to do this, because he didn’t want Peter to see the inside of his house, or even just his bedroom. Or maybe he had to be alone. After all, there was still the possibility that there was someone Tony was hiding this from. Even if it seemed unlikely, if it really was Tony Stark, because Tony Stark didn’t generally have boyfriends or girlfriends, at least not for a very long period of time…

Peter’s thoughts were going a mile a minute, and he was barely able to keep up with most of what went through his head. It didn’t help that the longer it took Tony’s screen to load, the more thoughts went wild, and finally, the more he started to realize that…maybe he wasn’t going to see him tonight.

But Peter wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Always. Maybe he was shy, right? It could very well be that. Maybe he just wanted to see Peter first, and then decide where to go from there. See if he was legit, almost.

“Isn’t your webcam working?” Peter asked after a minute, tilting his head a little.

“No, baby,” Tony’s voice came through the speakers on his laptop, “Not tonight. I’m sorry.”

That was okay. It sounded like a lie, but again, Peter wanted to give Tony the benefit of the doubt. He’d let it slide, for now, and do the show he promised Tony, and then he would think of the specifics later. He could hardly back out now that they were finally here. And it was still something that he was eager to do for Tony.

So Peter grabbed one of the toys Tony had bought for him, put on a big smile and rose a challenging brow at his camera.

“Ready to begin?”

Peter had fun. He did! Despite the fact that Tony didn’t turn on his camera, thus refusing to allow Peter the satisfaction of knowing that he was right, he had an absolute blast. He wasn’t nervous at all once they got started, because it was just like what they always did, except this time Tony wasn’t speaking right up into his ear so he had his hands free, and the other man was actually watching. But because Peter couldn’t see him, it still felt like what it always did, aside from the fact that Tony’s directions were a lot more specific.

But frankly, Peter loved that all the more.

They decided they’d do it again. Tony was enthusiastic, Peter was enthusiastic, and Peter figured that maybe, just maybe, once Tony gained enough confidence, he’d turn on his camera eventually and he’d be able to finally see that gorgeous face.

They just had to get there.

So Peter suggested another date for another stream, and Tony was there again, on the dot, screen black but voice gentle and sultry and absolutely delicious through his speakers.

Tony promised he’d send him a new toy for the next stream, and so said next stream Peter went all out, riding that new toy as if he’d be able to get Tony to turn on his camera with that alone. But again, Peter was left to guess what was happening behind the scenes. He still liked hearing Tony come apart, especially now knowing that it was because of what Peter was doing, not just because of what he was saying.

It was going well, all things considered. They both enjoyed themselves, and Peter felt like he was making some progress, which would hopefully aid him in accomplishing what he really wanted to.

But his Parker luck hadn’t struck in a while, so something was bound to happen.

He was bound to mess up.

And mess up he did.

He was grinding his hips down against that first toy Tony had ever sent him, a toy he’d come to love for so many reasons, when he slipped up.

He was getting really into it, and judging by the sounds Tony was making he was enjoying it very much as well. He pictured he was in Tony’s lap, sitting on Tony’s cock, and that it was Tony’s hand around his dick instead of his own, jerking him quickly in time with the gyrating motions of his hips. It was so easy to picture Tony now, with his voice sounding through his small room like that, encouraging him, teasing him.

He couldn’t help it.

He really couldn’t.

“ _Fuck_ , Mr. Stark…” he breathed when his change in angle had to toy hit particularly deep, brushing right past his prostate.

Tony went quiet on the other end, but Peter didn’t notice it at first, riding out his orgasm on the toy behind him, eyes squeezed shut and hand fisted around his cock.

It was only when he managed to catch his breath and ease himself off the dildo and flop over onto his back, that he noticed that Tony’s window on the screen was not just black anymore.

It was gone.

Peter shot up and looked at the solitary window on his laptop, where he saw himself, sitting on the edge of his bed, naked and stunned because he knew all too well what this meant and why it had happened and he already cursed himself for not being careful enough. He’d let himself slip up, and this was the result. 

Because while Peter had been riding out his orgasm, on cloud nine with the way things had been going despite the fact that he still hadn’t seen Tony’s face, endorphins flooding his body for the umpteenth time, he hadn’t been paying attention.

And Tony had promptly left the chat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has messed up and he has no way of fixing it. Ned encourages him not to lose hope, but it's so tempting, when there is nothing he can do. The ball is entirely in Tony's court.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we start off this last chapter I want to say thank you all so much to everyone who has commented on this fic. I've read every single one of them and have appreciated them all very much. Those are the kinds of things that keep me and every other writer out there writing.  
> Because of the long wait I wanted to make this an extra long chapter, so here we are. I hope you have enjoyed the story so far, and I hope you enjoy the ending just as much. See ya!

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Peter couldn’t believe what he’d done. How could he have been so foolish?

After he realized that Tony had ended their stream and that the only window left on his laptop’s screen showed himself sitting there looking dazed, Peter slowly turned off his laptop, and lay himself down on his back to stare up at his ceiling while the sweat that had accumulated on his skin dried slowly. It left him feeling cold, ultimately, but it was nothing compared to the dread that settled in his stomach.

He hadn’t meant for it to happen like that. Or at all.

He’d gotten too caught up in everything he was feeling, and it had resulted in possibly the biggest blunder of his life.

Peter gathered himself together after a while of lying there like a useless sock puppet to get up and start cleaning up. That was step one. And while he was doing that, he somehow convinced himself that this didn’t have to be a bad thing just yet. It would only start being a bad thing once it became clear that his fuck-up had cost him the best customer he was ever going to have in his entire life ever – but that hadn’t happened yet. So Peter still had hope. Or, something of it, anyway.

He told Ned what happened, and thankfully Ned managed to make him laugh about it, too. See how silly it was, instead of just embarrassing and heart-breaking. Because however he looked at it, he knew that if what he’d done had cost him this strange friendship he’d built with Tony, he would be heartbroken. There was no other way of putting it, because truth be told, if he really thought about it – he had kind of fallen for Tony.

Just, as a person. As a lovely, wonderful man who kept him company every week, who gave him such genuine compliments and honestly cared about him to an extent that he wasn’t sure a lot of people who saw him so little did.

Peter wondered if Tony felt that way too. If he kept coming back to Peter because he could feel that something had been growing between them, as well. Or maybe it was just Peter’s fantasies running away with him. That was very plausible, too. Maybe Tony liked his voice, and liked the things he could do to him. There were a lot of people out there who were very power hungry, after all, people who wanted but couldn’t find the right person or the right opportunity to be domineering. Maybe this was Tony’s only chance (not that Peter believed that if he really was Tony Stark, which he was still so very sure of).

Another week passed by as it usually did, with Peter spending most of his time working, juggling his jobs as per usual. If he could forget about the whole fiasco with Tony then it seemed like everything just happened like it always did. He still had his clients, still had his jobs, still had his daily routine the same way he always did.

He’d never really called or talked with Tony outside of ‘business hours’, anyway, so nothing changed there. It wasn’t like Tony was really ghosting him. He had just gone back to being radio-silent, which wasn’t at all unusual. It was the normal swing of things.

What wasn’t the normal swing of things, was when that Friday, Peter waited by the phone for hours, and didn’t get a call through.

Well, no, he did. He did get calls through. Friday nights were always good nights for calls, in general, with it being the start of the weekend and all.

But usually he’d be occupied with a certain customer of his, if only for an hour, maybe two, depending on how much time Tony had.

Peter had been nervous all week and those nerves were about to manifest in a big, mental breakdown or something – or so he thought, if Tony wasn’t going to call. Peter kept a careful eye on the clock, still hopeful that Tony would call and that they would go back to being normal. Peter had practiced an apology speech, even, and had a small stack of little cards next to his bed to keep kind of a script to make sure that he said everything he wanted to say. Ned had even helped think of everything he needed to say in order to clear the air between them.

Peter wanted to apologize so badly. Whether Tony was really Tony Stark or not – he wanted to make sure that they were good, and that they’d be able to continue. He valued the other man too much to let him go now that they had built something so wonderful over the course of several months. It seemed like a shame to watch that all fall apart. A real shame.

He knew that he’d become far too dependent on these weekly calls, now, as he sat waiting for the phone to ring. Too dependent on the subject matter of their conversations, too dependent on Tony’s reassurance, too dependent on this general sense of calm that he oozed during their conversations, allowing Peter a few moments of calm during his otherwise hectic life. These calls grounded him more than he had ever cared to admit, but in their absence it became painfully evident how much they meant, and by extension, how much Tony meant.

Midnight rolled around, and Peter sat on the edge of his bed by the phone in the quiet of his little apartment, listening to his neighbors fight for the third time that week.

He was reluctant to cut the line for the night, but he had to put his phone down eventually, and he could only hope that maybe Tony just needed some time. Maybe he’d be back the following week.

Peter wasn’t a _particularly_ hopeful person in those moments, but he could try.

Ned dragged him through the worst of it.

The nights where realization dawned on him and hit him like a ton of bricks that if he didn’t have this anymore, he wasn’t sure what he was still doing the calls for. He still loved his job, but every time he picked up the phone again, he was once more reminded of what he’d done. Peter was not the kind of person who could handle that type of anxiety.

The days he didn’t feel like he really wanted to go to work. Or didn’t want to open the phone line.

Ned was always a text away, and Peter appreciated that so much. His best friend couldn’t have popped back into his life at a better moment.

Another week went by without a call, but Ned told Peter not to give up hope just yet. He was always so optimistic, even when Peter was _this_ close to calling quits.

Peter listened to the news on the radio in the early hours of the morning during his opening shifts at the coffeeshop, and every time Iron Man or Tony Stark were mentioned, he’d listen a little bit extra closely. Almost as if he was hoping that he would be mentioned, in any way, shape or form. That he’d be acknowledged, if only simply for existing – but the only news that made its way out there was updates on this big mission the Avengers had been sent on.

Ned, optimistically, suggested that maybe Tony was out of town for ‘that whole mission thing’, and that that’s why he wasn’t able to call him. Again, Peter wasn’t sure, because when he thought back to some of their calls and made a bit of a timeline from what he could gather from the news and some tabloids, Tony had been out of town before during several of their calls. That had clearly never stopped him.

It was a lost cause.

Three weeks after the big incident, with yet another Friday gone by without a call from the one person he wanted to hear from most, Peter decided that all hope was lost.

Ned comforted him when the realization that he was never going to talk to Tony again really hit him, stroking his back with a gentle hand as he tearfully hiccupped through the confession that he _loved_ Tony. He did.

He really, really did.

And now he was gone, and it was time to move on.

A few days later, on a Tuesday morning, news reached New York that the Avengers were coming back to town. The whole city was tense, because footage had been released from the things they had to endure all the way across the Atlantic, and it was horrific. Or so Peter heard.

He didn’t watch it. He didn’t want to see. He tried to stay out of it as much as he could, wanting to try and distance himself from anything and everything that had to do with Tony Stark. He was just trying to save himself from another load of hurt, and avoid getting his hopes up for nothing once again.

He also absolutely did not want to see the kind of injuries he was sure had been inflicted upon Tony. He wanted to waste no more time worrying about a person who was never going to feel that way about him.

Peter managed to avoid most of the information and he was ready to be home, where it was much easier to dodge. He planned to silence his phone and watch a movie he’d already watched at least a dozen times on Netflix with some takeout and a big blanket. But that plan went out of the window almost immediately when he turned his key in the lock and realized it wouldn’t turn.

Had he forgotten to lock his door that morning? No, that couldn’t be. He’d been too level-headed for that. And too awake, even considering the hour. He always, _always_ , locked his door before he left, especially considering the neighborhood he lived in.

Which meant that someone must have broken in.

Peter’s heart was already in his throat as he reached for the door handle, bracing for the rampage he was sure he was about to face. At least he didn’t own many valuable items, because those he might have been able to replace, but it was the principle of the thing. No one had ever broken into his apartment before. It had always been a bit of a sanctuary, a safe haven. He hadn’t even invited many people in.

Peter opened the door cautiously slowly to peek inside, and he was ready to panic when, through the gap he’d created in the door, he spotted a man sitting across the room. But there was no reason for alarm, when he quickly realized who it was.

“…Tony,” Peter breathed, his voice a mixture of emotions, ranging from surprise to relief to something within him that was still upset, both at himself and at the man now sitting in his apartment.

Tony looked up as if Peter had roused him from deep thought, and immediately stood.

Peter noted that he looked like he’d just come out of battle, still in some type of undersuit. There was dried blood on the side of his face, although it looked like the worst of it had been wiped off, and he was covered in smudges of soot and dirt and something that Peter could only guess must have been some kind of alien muck.

And he was standing in his apartment. After weeks of radio silence, weeks of Peter’s worrying. And again, after months of talking on the phone, and eventually staring at a black screen while the voice belonging to the man watching him from the other side of that black screen gave him encouragements and praise. Now suddenly he was there, physically. In Peter’s apartment.

Peter was stunned, and it must have shown. Though frankly, Tony wasn’t doing much better.

“What are you doing here?” Peter asked when he managed to get his voice back, still standing in the door, which he’d pushed open a little farther.

“I needed to talk to you,” Tony responded. His voice sounded so much better in person, so much closer, somehow. Warmer, and with more depth. Peter had so thoroughly enjoyed hearing him over the phone that he hadn’t ever even considered what it would be like to hear him from this close. Even in the auditorium, over the speakers, it had been slightly tinny, and slightly surreal. This, though, this was very real. Extremely real.

“You could have called,” Peter quipped back thinly and with a voice that lacked the bite he’d hoped to put into it.

“You’re right,” Tony corrected, “I needed to see you.”

“Then you could have asked me to stream.”

“ _Peter_ ,” Tony’s voice was equal parts tired and exasperated, followed by a weary sigh. Peter suddenly felt like he was threading on thin ice, reminded of how _privileged_ he was that Tony was here with him, right now, and that he could decide to leave at any moment. He needed to reel it in and stop being so defensive. But how could he not be?

Either way, hearing his name on Tony’s lips like that, even though he did sound frustrated, was nothing short of a miracle.

A beat of silence passed between them. Peter looked at Tony, almost expectantly, and Tony regarded Peter for a short while, calculating, before he spoke up once again, voice infinitely softer. It reminded Peter of the times Tony had been sweet with him, the times he wanted to talk about his day, and hear about Peter’s, and how he was doing at work, and how things were at home.

“I missed you,” Tony admitted, and it reached Peter like a slap in the face.

_What?_

“You missed me?”

Tony gave a small, slow nod.

“Every Friday night. You have no idea how hard it was not to reach for the phone and dial the hotline.”

Peter frowned in his confusion for a moment. There was a question on the tip of his tongue, that after a minute, he decided to just ask, even if he was scared to hear the answer. “Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I liked being anonymous,” Tony said with a sheepish little smile, “And you showed me that you saw right through me.”

Peter’s heart leapt into his throat when he recognized that this was the opportunity he had been hoping to get – the opportunity to apologize, so he quickly took it with both hands.

“I didn’t do it on purpose. It was an accident. Saying your name like that, I—I didn’t mean to. I swear, the last thing I ever wanted to do was drive you away. You…meant too much to me for me to want that.”

Tony was quiet for a few moments, watching Peter calmly. Peter was wondering what went on inside his head, when Tony asked him if he could please close the door behind himself. Peter hadn’t even noticed that it was still open. He’d been too focused on Tony to know that he was allowing the entire corridor to look in on what was happening. Thankfully, no one had passed by. Mr. Stark probably wouldn’t want people to know where he’d been.

When the door had closed and effectively shut out any sounds from the hallway, leaving the two of them alone together, Peter thought he saw Tony relax visibly.

“Meant?” Tony repeated, tentatively.

Peter chewed at his lip before correcting himself. “Mean. Mean too much to me.”

Again, that awful silence. Peter wasn’t sure he was going to be able to handle many more of those moments, because they were nerve wracking. He understood that this was probably a lot to take in, and maybe Tony hadn’t come all this way to hear about Peter’s _feelings_ for him, but the silence sure didn’t help with the nerves that steadily built the longer Tony took to process everything that Peter said.

And when he couldn’t handle it any longer, he blurted out; “Are we going to talk about the fact that you literally broke into my apartment?”

It got a light, startled chuckle out of Tony, which in turn made Peter smile. It was all nerves, really, but a smile nonetheless.

“I’d much rather make up for leaving you hanging for a month.”

Peter’s face softened, just a touch. “Three weeks.”

Much to Peter’s surprise, Tony crossed the room to where he was standing by the now closed door, and slowly, almost tentatively, wrapped Peter up in his arms to pull him close to his chest. “Still far too much,” he murmured over Peter’s shoulder as the younger man, stunned and all, hesitantly reciprocated the affection.

It was not what he’d expected, but once he had it, he was certain that he didn’t want to let it go again. Or Tony in general, for that matter. He relaxed against the other’s chest and buried his face into the crook of Tony’s neck, breathing him in for the first time ever.

Considering that he smelled coppery, like blood, it could have been more pleasant – but this was Tony. Arguably, the love of his life. And regardless of that fact, a really big icon of his, someone he had looked up to for ages, hotline or not.

Peter pulled back and put both hands on Tony’s shoulders to take a good look at him from up close. He noticed the bruises on his temple and the cut on his brow and frowned, his previous anxiety morphing steadily into growing concern.

“You need to shower,” Peter decided, “And you need to rest. And you’re not leaving until you’ve done both of those things.”

Tony gave him a weird but fond look, and brought one of his hands up for a firm salute.

“Yessir.”

A freshly showered Tony smelled much better than a post-battle Tony. Peter was very glad to find out. He didn’t fit into Peter’s clothes too well, but it worked to cover him up at least. Not that Peter would have complained if Tony had walked around in nothing but a towel for the rest of the night.

They ordered in, and ate sitting close together, talking quietly in between long breaks of comfortable silence. They each had a lot to process, between everything that had happened and everything that was now happening, and the prospect of the future – whatever was in store for them.

Tony told him that he’d been tempted to turn on his own webcam during one of Peter’s streams before. That he’d been so close to pressing the button that he had to step away from his laptop. Peter remembered once where it had seemed like Tony’s microphone had cut out for a minute, and was amused to find out what exactly had happened.

He also told Peter about how he’d call shortly after battle, or after particularly rough days. How Peter was the highlight of his week, how he looked forward to talking to him every time, and how he thought of him often in between their weekly talks.

They got more comfortable around each other as the evening progressed. It was getting late, and Tony suggested that he should probably head home soon, but Peter couldn’t let him go just yet. Maybe it was for fear that if Tony walked out of his door, he might never return again. Peter didn’t think that he could bear to lose him like that a second time.

“So this is where the magic happens,” Tony teased Peter when he lead him toward his bed with the intention to lie back and watch a movie together, as if the bed hadn’t been there before and Tony was just seeing it now.

Peter realized, belatedly, that he probably recognized it from his streams, and felt his face heat up.

“Can’t wait to see it in real time,” Tony added, which definitely didn’t make Peter’s tomato-face situation any better. As if Tony suddenly realized what he’d just said, he backtracked, “If—if that is something you are interested in. Or might one day be.”

“Or like, now.” Peter shrugged, perplexed that the words even left his lips. He didn’t always have the best brain-to-mouth filter, but on the rare occasion that it turned out well for him, he was a little grateful for it.

And as it was, it was about to work in Peter’s favor.

Tony had just sunk down on the edge of Peter’s bed, and now looked up at him, his face unreadable for a second. But he reached out to take Peter’s hands and guide him into the vee of his legs so that he could look up directly at him.

“Do you mean that?” He asked. Peter nodded.

Tony tugged at his hands again, but there wasn’t anywhere that Peter could go, no way to come closer, aside from climbing into Tony’s lap. With an encouraging hand on his hip, Peter did so, sinking down while his heart seized, straddling the older man’s thighs until he was sitting back on his knees and they were closer than they ever had before.

Peter had never imagined they’d get to be _this_ close. Both in the physical, and he supposed spiritual sense of the way.

But Tony wasn’t done bringing him closer. He reached up, movements purposely restricted and reduced in their speed to give Peter ample time to avoid what would otherwise inevitably happen. He couldn’t for the life of him think of a reason to turn his head away before Tony’s hands framed his face.

And brought him down to meet him in a gentle kiss.

It was almost a simple brush of lips more than anything else, although Peter didn’t allow for it to stay that for too long. He pressed in, hands grabbing at the borrowed shirt stretched over Tony’s shoulders, and kissed him with an urgency that had been building up for weeks on end. He could finally pour every ounce of anxiety, or impatience, of love and of the fear he’d felt into this one kiss, resulting in something desperate and a little bit sloppy, but warm and eager and just as enthusiastically reciprocated by the man who had caused all of those feelings.

They coursed freely once again, now that Peter had allowed the floodgates to open, and it showed. He couldn’t get close enough. He shifted in Tony’s lap to press himself right up against the older man’s chest, and even then he felt like he should be closer. It was an unfamiliar and strange, desperate thing that Peter couldn’t seem to stop – but Tony didn’t seem to mind. He responded in kind, dropping his hands to Peter’s hips to grab at him and line their bodies up perfectly before wrapping his arms around Peter’s waist.

In one brief moment of clarity, Peter wondered if this was as much of a dream come true for Tony as it was for him.

When he moved his hips, purely on accident, he immediately knew that it had to be.

“Fuck,” Tony breathed in response to the movement of Peter’s hips, the groan muffled against the younger man’s lips.

Tony traced the seam of Peter’s mouth with his tongue and it earned him a soft moan, which he echoed with one of his own.

Finally, they were together. After so many comments on wanting to be with each other, wanting to feel each other, wanting to really _experience_ , they were now in the same bed with nothing to stop them but the bruises on Tony’s body – and those didn’t seem to slow him down.

A silent consensus was reached, wordlessly, and Tony tugged Peter’s shirt up and off before Peter returned the favor.

Peter had to pause for a moment to run his fingertips over the black and purple across Tony’s chest with a pinched expression, but his attention was quickly brought back to where Tony clearly wanted it to be with a simple touch to his cheek.

They kissed, and undressed, and Peter gestured for Tony to sit back against the wall while he grabbed some necessities from the bedside table and quickly joined him once again. He sat in Tony’s lap while he spread himself open on his fingers, with Tony’s hands roaming across the naked skin of his hips and thighs, teasing but never quite touching where Peter was already aching to be touched.

He kissed Tony as he rolled the condom onto him, and then again when he spread his cheeks apart to take the man’s cock.

His body swallowed him up like it was made for it, and Peter sank back with ease until the very hilt, until Tony was deep inside of him, big and warm and perfect in a way that almost none of the toys had been able to achieve so far. Tony kissed at Peter’s shoulder while they both got used to the feeling, his hands big and warm on Peter’s hips, encouraging and grounding.

And when their breathing slowed, Peter picked himself up, and sank back down. With long, deep strokes, he fucked himself slowly onto Tony’s cock, gyrating his hips in circular motions to draw the prettiest noises out of Tony’s kiss-swollen mouth.

Peter thought he’d heard it all before, but nothing could have prepared him for just how sweet Tony sounded, moaning directly into his ear, expressing his enjoyment so freely as Peter ground on his dick.

They started slow, but Peter couldn’t keep that torturous pace up for very long before he picked it up and forced himself back down into Tony’s lap faster and faster.

Among all this new, something, somehow, felt familiar, as Peter rocked up and down with Tony’s arms wrapped securely around his waist and his mouth at his pulse point. Peter held onto Tony for dear life, eyes hooded as he enjoyed what he never thought he would or could ever have.

His own cock ached between them, as yet untouched, but when Tony’s breath hitched to signify that he was drawing closer to his inevitable orgasm, he unwound an arm from around Peter to reach between them. His palm was searing hot against the head of Peter’s cock, and Peter clenched down abruptly, groaning loudly toward the ceiling.

Tony stroked quickly but thoroughly, hand callused and perfect around him, teasing him toward the very edge while Tony whispered praise into his ear.

“I love you,” Peter let out on a shivery breath as if it had been on the tip of his tongue the entire time and he just couldn’t hold it any longer. There was a smile in Tony’s voice when he whispered it back to him.

“I love you too, baby boy. Now come for me. Show me. Show me everything.”

Peter reached his peak with Tony deep inside of him.

His back arched, his cock twitched and spurted into Tony’s fingers, and he constricted firmly around Tony with a strangled moan. And judging by the sounds Tony made, he didn’t do much better. Peter rocked back another few times despite how badly he was twitching around Tony’s pulsating cock, riding the both of them through the wonderful waves of something perfect that came crashing down on them.

With endorphins flooding his system, Peter wanted to not have to move. But Tony grew sensitive, and so Peter lifted himself up on trembling thighs, and sat himself back down empty but beyond satisfied.

Tony didn’t let Peter move too far. His arms wrapped around his waist again and pulled him to his chest, not minding the stickiness that had managed to escape the coil of Tony’s hand and land between them. Peter, uncaring himself, snaked his arms around Tony’s neck, and kissed him deeply.

Peter enjoyed the familiar ways in which his body ached as they sat together, bathing in the afterglow. In fact, something about it felt almost a little bit too familiar, which had Peter wondering what it could be. He’d had the same strange sense of familiarity moments ago. Almost as if he knew the feeling of Tony inside of him, but he’d never experienced it. Not with Tony, anyway.

“Hey Tony?” Peter asked when they had cleaned up and settled into Peter’s too-small bed, cozied up against each other, breathing soft and slow. Tony gave a sleepy hum of acknowledgement and nuzzled his nose further into Peter’s neck. For a moment, Peter lost his train of thought with the way Tony actively cuddled into him because _shit_. He was a lucky son of a gun.

Peter cleared his throat gently and forced the question from his lips.

“Was that first toy you sent me an exact replica of your dick?”

Tony sputtered as if he choked on his own spit for a solid few seconds, but the lack of immediate denial told Peter enough.

He shook his head fondly.

“Well for the record, I much prefer the real thing.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony kissed behind his ear.

Peter smiled, and pressed back against Tony’s chest that little bit firmer, and closed his eyes to allow himself to enjoy what he hoped he was going to have for a very long time going forward.

“Uh huh. All of you, Tony. And not an inch less.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to read more of my work or request a fic, [come find me on Tumblr :)](https://iloveyou3thousand.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know if you enjoyed reading that, I'd really appreciate it. I have a bunch of ideas on how to potentially continue this so if people like this AU then I might write more for it :)
> 
> This was originally written for a request I got on Tumblr. [Come send me a prompt!](https://iloveyou3thousand.tumblr.com/)


End file.
